Luyện nghe bài hát Color My World Mine

I once met a man who himself not to dream
What he to have seen was a glimpse of everything
been painting pictures on canvas since age thirteen
And claims he exists in the mind of a higher being
And I enjoy his work; mostly scenic
But each one is on an easel where the man paints himself painting himself
And all in his visual field
He said this was the only way he could himself real
since he could remember, he had one nightmare reoccur
But until ten years ago, it didn't matter
It consisted of loud, distorted echoing off the concrete
He ran on top of it in to reach a ladder
Now sometimes, he'd get so close but touch his destination
Which him much frustration 'cause he didn't know what it meant
And by the end of the dream, he saw the scene from a eye
Only to his dead body laying on the cement

It was only to witness his dead body laying on the
At first it him out, but after a while he grew content
So he thought, "It's a dream," and kept living his life
Writing his soul on the canvas 'cause it his planet light
And it on and on like space and time, ain't nothing odd
It's not he didn't believe, he just didn't approve of God
His was one I couldn't comprehend
'Till I stopped detective and listened to him as a friend
He

He once saw a painting that told his life story
It was then he knew he was the art of divinity
He once saw a painting told his whole life story
A brush stroke of the gods made him one note in their
He once saw a painting that told his whole story
He spoke for and not the rest of humanity
He once saw a painting that told his whole life
And I realize that I'm not
God imagined me

It's I said
About ten ago, the event that changed his whole reality
Took place on his trip to the local art gallery
It was there he studied his contemporaries
And there where he nearly carried his to a hole and buried it forever
It was a very day
The place was empty
And he got chills down his spine just being present in the
On the wall, was a picture that looked familiar
And when he got close, his heart
cause he saw it was a of his dream
It was a of his dream
His on a runway
By a ladder to an airplane its propellers spinning
Which accounted for the noise
The up was perfect
And was the day he stopped believing in existing
He resented his
I mean, can't explain
must have went on in his brain while he stared into a frame
Of a of art which he created and was at the same time
The mind can't handle much, it's just insane
It's like reading a book where each words describe thoughts
And in quotations, it reads whatever you say you talk
You think it can't
But it did
I guess surprisingly wide cracks in each life's sidewalk
He upon an answer when he never had a question
And decided to stop dreaming to his mental health
Now he hardly to people
Just in his basement
Writing infinity, by painting
himself
This is a universe
Is it all a blueprint?
In the real universe, is my consciousness
Are we really something a intelligence made up?
A figment of imagination colored by a paintbrush?
Maybe all of our art the fate of other beings
Then every character in ever novel thinks it's alive and just gods
blindly
Just a
I don't what it means
But that's the of the man who trained himself not to dream

He saw a paining that told his whole life story
He witnessed the of the word "existing"
He once saw a painting that told his whole life
He colored his world theirs, and concluded he wasn't
He once saw a painting that told his whole story
The hidden variable all that is is art
And when I close my eyes, I see as a story
A God the God that imagined me
And I am God
And so on